Impossibility under oath of Incredulity
by Shinigamideathgirl
Summary: Sometimes it’s just too much to ask to be a normal cop.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Impossibility under oath of Incredulity

Author: Meg a.k.a. Shinigamideathgirl

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: Sometimes it's just too much to ask to be a normal cop.

This story deals with the old Ellison, he changed a lot from the anti-social person he was before he met Blair. So what if Blair was just a little too late? What if Jim found another way to deal with his psychotic senses? What if Blair is facing something bigger than Jim's senses, something so tangled up in history and lies?

Author's Notes: Why am I starting a new story? When I haven't finished the other two I've started? Because I've lied and given up on them… I'm really, really bad. But I've just found this incredible fandom, the writers in 'The Sentinel' are amazing. They just have such GOOD stories and above all else, I like good writing. So I thought, why not, I'll just write a bit here too. It's not really a slashy story but I suppose in my mind I can't (or won't) see them with anyone else, but don't worry its mostly just Gen, I'm not a big romance writer. So let the action begin!

Excerpt: Jim pupils expanded and he could suddenly see every detail, the sweat and the tracks the sweat had left on his skin, every bump, crevice and hair on his face suddenly seemed obvious. Even the plethora of hues that made the curly mess on his head, every twist and turn each strand took, every mark and eyelash and those orbs that had no right to be so beautiful, blue and blue and blue and blue…

Chapter: One

Jim tossed his pen gently to his left hand, twisted it between his fingers and tossed it back to his right hand. His report lay abandoned besides his computer, a sheaf of white pristine paper. Untouched. He frowned while unconsciously playing with his pen; the quicker he got this report done the quicker could let his workmates watch dust settle where he'd been. Sighing he switched tactics throwing his irksome pen on top of the blank pages, mildly hoping it would break and splatter ink all over the untouched sheets, when it refused to comply he turned towards the computer. The crime database flashed on screen, all criminals on record in cascade; their profiles, past misdemeanors, locations, friends, jail time and so much more, their life splayed out to be dissected and monitored. Jim vaguely wondered if he should be feeling any sort of sympathy, the thought floated away before it had fully formed leaving Jim more irritated than he had been moments ago.

He was procrastinating, he should just write up the damn report and get out of here, the night shifts were giving him dirty looks. He shortcut his way to word pad and wrote up his report short and concise, referencing witness testimonies and other useful resources, two hours later he was beginning to feel remorseful for leaving it for so late. Saving the document and printing out a copy he snapped the computer off, tossed the load of papers than represented his report in his boss's pigeon hole and strode out of the bull-pen.

Maybe he should find himself some company tonight; he was feeling rather lonely and pissed. Then again better not, no need to drag anyone else down into his pissy mood. He sighed leaned against his pickup and glared at the car park for good measure. Oh yeah, the concrete sure knew not to mess with him. It was late, he was grumpy, he should just go home and sleep his bad mood off. Sleep off his personality, heh, Jim grimaced his own version of a smile before unlocking the truck's door and a climbing in. 11:45, later than he thought it was however not nearly late enough for him to succumb to sleep.

Jim suddenly jerked, slammed both of his hands over his ears, bent over and bit the steering wheel, it was a minute before he could see again, took another two for his hearing to come back. Sweat slowly dried on his collar and underarms. A scream, he heard a scream but he didn't hear anything now. Jim slammed his head back on his seat and gripped the steering wheel. These attacks were so sudden, so random and totally uncontrollable. He started the ignition, shift gears and careened out of the car park and into cascade's hidden night.

Where was it? Where did it come from? He wished he could hear it once more just to get his bearings but it just didn't work like that, he knew it and yet somehow he just wished for some damn logic to it. For no reason whatsoever his sense... his senses would play up, of course that didn't make much sense at all. He couldn't possibly see what he saw, hear what he heard, taste and feel some of the things he had experienced. He ground his teeth, just ignore it and try to follow the sound from memory. He slowed the truck and slipped out.

Here.

It was here, he licked his lips and let go… for a moment it was terrifying, he hated having to give up control, he wasn't all together sure of the motives of… his other self. And that's what it was because it sure wasn't him unholstering his gun, clicking the safety off and slipping into an abandoned hotel. His blood sang. Something about this person was primal, dangerous, like it had no capability to reason. It hunted. And it did that well, he just hoped he could force himself back before it took over him completely because he wasn't sure it was a good guy, an upholder of justice, no he didn't think it cared much about the laws of society at all.

But he could see through its eyes and it always amazed him, just like when he had those 'attacks,' his vision sharpened to beyond his comprehension, he could see in the clearest of colour and distinction, the dark didn't diminish his capacity to see at all. While his attacks hardly ever lasted for over a minute or two and carried a shitload of attached pain, this was being used it without the slightest twinge.

He wondered which would be better, to have this strange freakish ability and be able to control it or just be normal. Well either option was probably better than having a spilt personality he supposed. A door stood proud before them and suddenly he was back, breathing heavier than when he was in his truck and he could hear something. He pressed his ear towards the door straining to listen while in the back of his mind he wondered where the other him had disappeared off too.

"Look you have the wrong guy, I… I'm just a grad student," the voice was male, shaky and perplexingly made Jim feel at ease. Until he started screaming again.

Metal on flesh always had such a distinct sound, kind of hollow and high pitched. Jim tensed ready to fling the door open and start shooting, but he needed just a bit more information.

"Why were you waiting at the drop-off? What the fuck do you know?" another male voice, deeper and gritty. It got on Jim's nerves.

"I don't know anything!" The voice was straining, trying for calm and yet assertive. "I don't know where your _shipment_ has disappeared too." Footsteps, more than one pair, so three people for sure. The kid getting beaten up and two goons. No problem.

He took two steps back and grinned, better to use his surprise attack to the maximum, maybe scare them a little and maybe mess em' up a little too. His kick sent the door ripping out of its hinges and smashing a few feet within the room – hopefully the kid wasn't under the now bits of door on the floor.

"Who the fu-,"

"Police! Drop your weapons and raise your arms!" Jim stormed in after the door, "Didn't your mama ever teaching you not to swear?"

The two goons watched him stupidly before realizing the impact of his words, one lunged towards the kid tied up to a chair the other was already getting a round out of his revolver. Jim dived grabbing the trigger happy by his ankles and watched the giant fall, shots still blasting into the roof. Jim slammed his elbow down hard on his right arm and watched the gun slide away from them; he then proceeded to give the giant a knuckle sandwich. Centered straight at his face, and watched it bounce twice on the wooded floor before being still.

"Don't fucking move or I slit his neck, I ain't fucking about!" Of course you will, some days his sorry excuse of a life just played out like corny eighties detective stories. So predictable.

"Keep it rated pg," Jim muttered standing and training his gun at the imbecile's forehead. "What do you thinks faster? You're knife or my gun?" Jim grinned, people have alleged that he looked rather psychotic when he smiled, so he smiled a little broader adding a lot of teeth. "Put it down and you don't die. Simple. Move and your brains paint the wall behind you." He really had no intention of killing the terrified gangster wannabe, unless there was absolutely no other option but a little fear went a long way to dealing with delinquents.

He tossed the knife and raised his hands. Take a bow Jim, you deserve it.

"Good move." Jim moved fast cuffing the youngster and calling for backup, he secured the site and moved to hostage. "Hey you alive kid?"

"I'm not a kid." Sharp blue eyes, a slightly upturned nose, pretty lips all framed by a tumble of dark curly locks. Jim backed up a little, masculine for sure but he found himself checking anyway. Two hoops glittered from his right ear and blood flowed freely from a gash on his forehead. "Er… hey man, can you maybe get me outta this?" The kid tugged his wrists indicating his tied up state of affairs.

Jim wondered if that was such a wise decision, he had a strange feeling about this kid or whatever age this guy claimed. "Maybe," Jim murmured instead, "Name."

"Aww come on, it's really starting to hurt." Jim pupils expanded and he could suddenly see every detail, the sweat and the tracks the sweat had left on his skin, every bump, crevice and hair on his face suddenly seemed obvious. Even the plethora of hues that made the curly mess on his head, every twist and turn each strand took, every mark and eyelash and those orbs that had no right to be so beautiful, blue and blue and blue and blue… "Hey, hey, you okay there?"

Jim jerked back and glared at the kid. "I'm fine." He growled, got behind the kid and started on the ropes, sirens wailed in the distance as backup decided to finally get their ass into gear. For probably the first time in his life that attack didn't hurt, he had definitely gone into 'super sense mode,' as he'd dubbed it; however the little demons hiding in his brain weren't trying to smash their way out for once. And that shook him. Pain he could handle, even the idea he was going insane and had a split personality he was handling. Change, change he abhorred.

Change was an uncontrollable force, a cataclysm that could shake the very foundations of his life and sanity which didn't exactly sit on steady ground in the first place. Change was evil. In other words, he had to get away from this kid as soon as possible.

There were procedures and rules to follow in these kinds of situations and of course a damn report lingering at the finish line. Other cops were now on the scene securing the goons and forensics were swooping into the room like a bunch of masked aliens tripped out on ecstasy. He wondered briefly if his ex-wife was working tonight and decided he didn't really want to know the answer to that.

"Thanks man, I'm gonna have bruises for the next month. Ugh," The poor beaten up kid probably had a lot of bruising underneath the hundred of shirts he seemed to be wearing. Some kind of new-age bullet proof vest? Jim smirked.

"Don't move," Jim crouched in front of the kid and slid a hand on his chest, his sense of touch suddenly increased tenfold. "Broken two false ribs on the left side. You're probably safe from puncturing a lung however, I would suggest you stop moving." The kid looked a little flushed and was obviously trying to squirm away from his touch, Jim wondered if he was hurting the kid, he slowly let go finding himself aggravatingly reluctant to move away. As soon as his hand couldn't feel the heat of the kid's body, his sense of touch suddenly seemed evaporate back to normal, he almost lunged back towards the kid.

Definitely should get out of here.

"Jim." Gruff voice, probably one that was interrupted from sleep, Jim was surprised to see his captain. "I wondered if you ever slept guess I finally know." He had a tentative relationship with his captain some could call it friendship, however Jim wasn't quite sure he had friends, he supposed the captain was a little closer than anyone else. That wasn't really saying much though.

"Captain." Jim made sure to leak a bit of curiosity into the word hoping that would tip Simon Banks into telling him why he was down here.

"The two thugs you've terrified over there are known gangbangers, have rap sheets longer than my arm. I happened to be in the area when you made the call." Jim watched his captain closely wondering if he was lying and decided he wasn't, sleeping out in his car in this kind of neighborhood? That kind of behaviour fitted Jim Ellison but not his captain.

"Doing a little camping out in the backwaters?" Jim asked curious despite himself.

"Rough patch with the miss's." Simon finally muttered. Jim nodded.

"Hey, you aren't just ignoring me are you?" A voice floated from behind him, Jim turned back to the kid and wondered why the paramedics hadn't gurneyed him away yet. "Because I'm sure in these kinds of situations-"

Jim whistled one of the on site doctors over, "Get him out of here," he motioned to the kid who was trying to get his attention.

"Oi wait-a-minute!" the voice insisted.

"Make sure he gives his statement and see if he wants to press charges." Jim told the doctors before he strode away from the kid.

"Hang on Jim," His captain matched his long strides.

"I'll be at the bull-pen ready to serve and protect, don't worry I'll have my statement down and this investigation running by tomorrow."

"The kid?"

Jim shrugged.

………………………

Jim looked at the crime scene, from what the goons had spilled they were waiting for a shipment, no they didn't know from whom or too whom, all they knew was to get the bags from a hotspot and get them over to a warehouse down the waterfront. Typical runners, useless really. He'd already been down to the warehouse ironically numbered 13 but didn't find anything, not that he had really thought he would. They had found Sandburg (the kid who was tied up) loitering around the shipment area and they had presumed he was their shipment guy. I mean look at the guy, with that hair, man, who's he trying to fool? Looked like a junkie to me.

He was at a dead end here, it was probably time to write a report and drop the case at narcotics; maybe they would find some links with this case. He turned away from the dust smattered room and was about to duck out of the yellow crime scene tape when something glinted under a piece of broken door. He turned back interested crouching to get a better look; he got a pair of thongs and a bag, moved the wood and spotted a necklace. He grabbed it with the thongs and dropped it into the bag. Moving the bag towards the light he eyed the necklace carefully, string with wooden… well he wasn't exactly sure what it was, carvings he guessed. Something about it, something forgotten. Jim shook his head and shoved the bag into his coat, he'd let forensics have a look and maybe if his ex-wife was in a good mood they could get dinner.

Jim quietly strolled out of the hotel looking around, quiet neighborhood but not the calm comforting type of quiet where families fell asleep at eight pm. This felt oppressed with the smell of decay, debasement and possibly fear. Something stirred inside him, Jim stopped digging his nails into his palm, it would be so easy to just let his other self take over. Jim shook his head vigorously before dragging himself into his truck, maybe… he did need to interview the victim… well no, he didn't have to personally…but it had to be done… he was free and primary on this case.

Jim sighed and drove out of the sight of the hotel.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Impossibility under oath of Incredulity

Author: Meg a.k.a. Shinigamideathgirl

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: Sometimes it's just too much to ask to be a normal cop.

This story deals with the old Ellison, he changed a lot from the anti-social person he was before he met Blair. So what if Blair was just a little too late? What if Jim found another way to deal with his psychotic senses? What if Blair is facing something bigger than Jim's senses, something so tangled up in history and lies?

Author's Notes: Here I am with chapter two! Sorry, sorry it took so long, but you'll find that with me, I prefer reading way more than writing, so I'm sooooooo slow, when it comes to story chapters. Anyway onto the story, it's a very slow going story… I think it'll take a long while to get to the thicket of anything… maybe it's the way I write lol…

Read and Review please.

Chapter: Two

The bull-pen was buzzing with activity as usual, Jim ignored everyone, not that he had to try very hard anyway. Strode to his desk and picked up the file on the shipment case, a case he hoped would shortly see some poor narcotic's desk. He reviewed the statement from the kid, was out for a stroll and some dude just nabbed him, demanding a shipment. He had no idea why, and no idea who or what or where. Innocent bystander huh? Jim grimaced, who took a stroll in the middle of the night in that neighbourhood? Jim couldn't help but glare, was the kid lying? Shit, he thought the kid…

His breathing suddenly hitched, he could only imagine a giant vacuum cleaner was rapidly sucking all the oxygen in the room because suddenly he seemed to be experiencing a certain lack of air.

Calm down.

Calm down. Electrical and chemical responses which govern a body ceased functioning. He was going to die…and it was getting too bright, intense, he wondered if his pupils would just be seared away at this rate.

"…im…Jim? Jim?" He felt something settle near his neck on his shoulder and he reacted instinctively, grabbing the hand and twisting it sharply, he turned around to face his attacker, breathing heavily, sweat slowly slid down his brow. Only to see his captain grimacing in pain. He let go abruptly. That would probably leave bruises.

"Sorry." Jim straightened catching his breath. "You startled me." He replied looking away at the file in his other hand, he'd crushed it unknowingly; he tried to flatten it out surreptitiously. "I thought I'd go interview the…um, Mr. Sandburg." Or go for a drive, blackout and kill myself.

"Jim." The captain was probably staring straight at his face, Jim wasn't looking that way so couldn't really tell. "You…" The captain sighed, the sound of paper crunching made Jim look up, the captain had unwrapped a cigar and stuck it in his mouth. "Take Henry with you."

I don't need a babysitter. Jim nodded forcefully and stalked out of the bull-pen. "Jim!" He half turned, not in the mood to be particularly considerate. "Maybe you should take some time off after this case." The captain looked uncertain, like he was trying to feed a wild tiger and realizing that he may be the meal instead. Jim felt exactly the same way, however, Jim clenched his hands; he couldn't call for the zookeeper to get him out of the cage.

"Maybe." He turned quickly and walked out before the captain could say anything else. He just needed more control, so why was it that the harder he tried to rein it all in, it just spilled all over the place.

'Almarane Cascade Hospital.' The kid sure hadn't looked so bad yesterday to still be lying in the hospital. He had let Henry drive; it would give the boisterous dark hared, dark skinned guy something to do rather than just get more tense and depressed to be stuck with him and stop a fatal murder-suicide. Then again maybe there was just a bit of fear rolling off the other detective as well, not that Jim could sense anything like that. Well it wasn't that unusual, IA had probably tried to kick Jim off the police force for as long as he'd been working there, there'd be bound to be some misconceptions about him. Well so far he had done everything by the books, maybe not always the most peaceful of ways, whatever, he hadn't killed too many people.

The two detectives hadn't uttered a word to each other but then again Jim was sending out some powerful 'don't talk to me unless strictly necessary,' waves.

Hospitals sucked in Jim's opinion, all these dying people, the smell of antiseptic, disinfectant and other foreign substances, not to mention the wails of the living dead. He'd been to too many hospitals in one lifetime. Jim thrust his hands in his coat pockets while Henry flirted with the secretary while flashing his gold detective badge Startled little intake of breath from the secretary actually made Jim look her way, he caught the brunette's name tag, 'Gloria,' and realized she had quickly flicked her eyes away from him.

Did they know each other?

"Sure, go on right ahead." She was repositioning her attractive straight hair and pouting at Henry. Maybe he was reading too much into things, it had all happened too quickly anyway, Henry was making promises of return and Jim felt the need to eviscerate someone and the flirting cop looked like the ideal victim.

Jim shot a quick look at them and started walking towards the kid, Blair, Sandburg, whatever's room. Henry could catch up if he so desired it.

Jim ignored the people in white and green, the lulling depression of the place and the masses of broken people around him, slight relief in the elevator however the smells seemed to have soaked through even concrete, death lingered here too. Bleached walls and floors were sending some migraine inducing pain through his skull and Jim wondered briefly if he could just stop breathing altogether until he got out the place.

Could stop seeing, hearing and tasting as well.

The kid's room claimed neighbour of pediatrics and screaming, crying, laughing noisy, noisy children. Silence, unnatural silence loitered as well, of parents of hopelessness. Jim grit his teeth and marched forward, ignoring stained walls that didn't exist, florescent tubes that flickered and flickered and flickered ungraciously. Jim almost ran the rest of the way to the kid's room, hold it together! This is your body, command it.

Control this. Or let me.

Jim jerked abruptly and turned around, Henry was jogging slightly to catch up, you weren't meant to run around in hospitals. He slowed as he approached Jim, "So let's get this party started, yeah?" Henry was overly cautious, sending a lot of - I'm gonna back away very quickly if you look even vaguely threatening - signs.

Oh yeah, just what they needed, more noise. Jim shrugged briefly and continued forward the room was barely a few steps away.

It was like walking into a smell proof, sound proof, visual oasis. Why? Why? WHY? How did this neo-hippie-witch-doctor-punk do that? Soften the world and his senses, keep the other him quiet like no other pill ever had. Jim was furious, why did this kid keep showing him a world of control then ripping it away. He refused to be dependent on a person, especially this blue-eyed, misbegotten-punk!

The case.

The case, we're here for the case, remember?

"Yo, man. Dude, you alright?" Jim looked at concern, because that was truly what he saw in the kid and a vocabulary better suited to someone in their teens. Jim looked away sharply, he would control this. "Hey, you know I don't remember if I ever even said thanks, you know for saving me yesterday." Like it happened so often or something. "Oh and I never really got around to introducing myself, I'm Blair Sandburg and err, you're Jim, right? I overheard people calling you that yesterday. Right…" It was a nice voice, not too deep, light but nervous. A soft ba-dum ba-dum had been playing ever since he had entered the room and the track had increased a bit of speed.

Maybe he should feel a little apprehensive that he was hearing a stranger's heartbeat from a couple of feet away. Then again maybe he should feel worried for the fact that he wasn't feeling worried about it.

"My name is Jim Ellison; I'm a major crimes detective. Your injuries… I was lead to believe they were not so severe last night?"

"Oh, err… yeah, no they're not. Not really…sort off… something about keeping me in for observation. I'll be out today… um now, really. I mean I could go anytime, well I was. Going, that is. Um…"

Jim watched Sandburg curiously stumble over his words; he could feel himself relaxing, his tension just melting with every embarrassed, befuddled word uttered. It was intoxicating; it was just as infuriating and threw his pace off completely. "What were you really doing yesterday night?" Jim asked, almost too honestly hoping for his liking.

"I was out for a walk," ah-hah heartbeat is skyrocketing, Houston we have a liar. "I had a disagreement with my… friend, I was taking a breather okay?" Blue eyes were defiant but it didn't sit right with Jim even as Sandburg's heart rate slowed down, he was hiding something. Jim exhaled and rubbed his face, what the heck was he doing? Measuring someone's honesty through hallucinatory sounds, he didn't even know existed or was just a figment of his imagination? Bullying some punk who probably was in the wrong area at the wrong time? Completely and absolutely losing his mind?

All of the above.

This case was destined for the back burners. He knew that, Henry standing quietly behind knew it, goddamit! The whole department probably knew it.

"You don't want to press charges chief." Jim stated bluntly, so why was he still persisting like this? Like he just could. Not. Let. Go. There had to be something. Sandburg's face slowly faced away from Jim, fingers knotted in the bed sheets.

"I – Hassles man, you know. The court and stuff." Somber voice, cut sentence, was that really what he had wanted to say? Well, that was it, wasn't it? What more was there to possibly say or do? It was definitely time to drop the case and watch his future brazenly crash and burn, he was fighting a beaten battle, and it was getting too dangerous for him and himself to be running around with a gun. Well at least the other Jim was dangerous. "Hey, give me five? I'll get dressed and maybe we could talk huh? Outside, a café or something." Jim watched the younger man stumble out off the bed, he was wearing hospital scrubs.

"I was under the impression that you had some broken ribs. Complications?" Jim asked quietly, anger dissipating.

"Um… nerve damage, the leg. My leg. Had to have surgery. Pass me the crutches?" Jim nose flared, nerve damage would have to be caused by actual laceration, and there were no cuts on Sandburg last night, nothing deep. He'd had no other problems, Jim had checked thoroughly, he had been a medic and he knew what to look for.

"From last night?" Jim queried, he realized he probably should have been more specific.

"Yeah." Sandburg wasn't lying.

"Henry, go down and see to Sandburg's papers? We'll be down in a minute." Jim turned to Henry and gave him a 'please,' look, meaning he tried to keep the twitching and glaring to a minimum. The shock was a little too comical on Henry's face.

"Yeah, sure." Henry almost bolted out the door.

Jim advanced onto his new charge, standing Sandburg was shorter than Jim had expected and his face had to tilt up to look Jim in the eye. His face was almost impish, like he somehow got lost on the pathway to manhood and accidentally got stuck in-between. He didn't look the twenty-four he had claimed on his statement, but Jim had checked that last night…birth records, driver's license, no prior offences were easily exhibited under the touch of his fingers. And the police computers.

"You know, I reckon if you smiled a bit more there'd be less tension between you and your partner man." Sandburg had backed up a bit, crutches held stiffly under tense arms.

Jim answered automatically, "He's not my partner."

"Oh, tag-a-long? What, are you meant to be some kind of lone rider? Movie style?" The kid was grinning, even as he attempted to pull his pants up his leg, while clinging desperately to his crutches. He wasn't succeeding terribly far using his own power and resources. The kid was a mess.

It took two long strides to move to where Sandburg was fighting a mini war with his pants. Jim just batted his hands away and without really thinking about it started dressing a complete stranger. He blamed the kid of course, the curly haired imp made him senseless.

Jim took the opportunity to examine his legs; left thigh had been stitched up, slight bruising around the wound but nothing threatening. Sandburg took it all quite placidly, lifted his legs when instructed, standing still as Jim buckled him up, dragged the surgical scrubs off and tugged his shirt over his head.

"Thanks, I should probably take a shower, considering…" Blue eyes were searching, and Jim almost panicked, instead just ignored. And pushed everything that didn't make sense into the little unmarked black box in his mind, denial. Half his life was stored in that box.

"You smell fine chief." Another automatic response Jim wished he had disemboweled before speaking. Jim didn't even have to bother looking at the kid's face; he could feel the heat from Sandburg's blush from where he was standing, close but not that close.

"Jim?" Jim turned to face Henry, surprised that he hadn't actually heard him approach, he was hearing a lot of things these days, hardly anything went past him anymore, the kid definitely had some kind of impact on his senses.

But how?

Jim nodded for Henry to continue. "Mr. Sandburg just needs to sign some release forms and he's good to check out."

"Uh sure, I'll go and do that now, I'll meet you in ten Jim?"

"I'll come down with you."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Impossibility under oath of Incredulity

Author: Meg a.k.a. Shinigamideathgirl

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Summary: Sometimes it's just too much to ask to be a normal cop.

Author's Notes: This chapter's a bit short and I didn't want to make it longer because I just liked how it ended. Can you guess what's going to happen? Well I think it's kind of obvious… but then I'm writing it, it'd be a bit disappointing if I didn't know what was going to happen. I just hope it's not too obvious or corny or lame or done before.

If it is, tell me! And I'll try and make it not so cliché. Oh and the plot is pretty much drawn out, I vaguely know what's going to happen and so forth…

Read and Review please.

Chapter: Three

It had been an easy enough task to spirit away Mr. Sandburg from the hospital, a much harder task to navigate him to a café. Eventually crutches, Sandburg, Henry and Jim piled into Henry's car for a one minute drive to a coffee shop instead of a half hop ten minute stumble it would have been. Jim belatedly wished he had driven, as he hadn't was now thinking of ways to dispose of Henry and couldn't come up with any coherent reason.

After a bit of manhandling, staggering and swearing they were seated inside the cozy little shop, low couches and low tables provided comfortable seating which would be hell for Sandburg to get out of afterwards. The place was nestled away in a quiet street close to the hospital, crowded but not uncomfortably so which was probably due to the time of day, pass the morning rush yet before the afternoon rush, at that time of day when everyone was doing something or nothing at all. The shop had decided to follow its namesake in its decorating theme, coffee-bean brown to cappuccino brown relaxed the atmosphere and subdued music filtered from overhead, not invasive but enough to rupture awkward silences.

Like the one Jim found himself experiencing.

"I – I'll go get us some coffee then. Uh, what do you guys want?" Henry got up quickly hovering over the couch as he waited for the replies, Sandburg got out his wallet trying unsuccessfully to pay for his own drink, Jim handed over a five bill, switched on the glare and watched as Henry snatched it without arguing. Jim ordered black no sugar; Sandburg ordered something sugary, revolting which included every flavour from here to Oklahoma. Henry disappeared into the crowd.

"You wanted to talk?" Jim prompted, he didn't have all day… not that he had much to do after this conversation anyway, wrap up a few statements, type out a report, hand it over to narcotics and then maybe jump off a cliff.

That was if he couldn't find any solid leads to this case, a case he was sure was bigger than anyone was giving it credit for, something… there was something.

"Yeah… Yes." Blair swallowed and looked out the window, "It wasn't drugs they lost yesterday." He stated bluntly looking back. "Those guys, the ones you saved me from yesterday, did they say what it was they lost? Their _shipment_." Sandburg made 'shipment' sound like a joke, all without even rolling his eyes.

Jim frowned. The two had corroborated, separately, that it was a shipment of ecstasy, methylenedioxy methamphetamine. Not that he had been there at the questioning, so it could be a lie, but the two bastards had only sealed their fates with their confession, they would be in prison for intent to sell and drug trafficking. What was the point to lie?

Unless they were protecting something. Unless it was worse than just drugs.

"Why?" Jim asked instead, he wasn't in the habit of telling witnesses and or civilians information regarding on-going cases.

"It… something I heard, they weren't talking about an inanimate object, it wasn't drugs, not… something dangerous and I think its still at the wharf," Blair took a breath, trying to articulate something that wasn't easily understood, "I think it was alive…" he whispered before his body stilled, betrayed only by his eyes which flicked to where Henry was heading back, precariously balancing three coffee cups. Sandburg had flicked his eyes to his side and back and Jim would have missed it if he had blinked. Jim narrowed his eyes; fast… his reaction was fast, that kind of reaction was what he had seen back in his covert op days. That was a trained man's reaction.

"You didn't mention this in you statement yesterday." Jim said quietly, imitating Sandburg he realized, keeping it a secret from Henry. Sandburg grinned easily completely turning away from Jim and engaging with Henry, Jim's quiet question lost in the coffee shop which was now rapidly filling with customers, a normal person might have missed it but Jim didn't think Sandburg had, he had seen his facial muscles react to his question, very, very subtly though.

Jim had a momentary flash of anger which he covered by cracking his knuckles and staring out the window until the two of them had settled again. Sunlight streamed through the window while a slight breeze rattled the net covering, bugs flew morosely in circles outside trying in vain to find admittance, the allure of pastries compelling a little head-butting and body crashing.

Jim rolled Sandburg's theory around in his head for a minute, vaguely concentrating on the magnified insects outside, each second revealing the stupidity of his claim, it didn't make any sense, what exactly was Sandburg trying to refer too?

"Henry, I think we should drop Mr. Sandburg back at his apartment." Jim stated as the two of them began drinking, Jim turned to Sandburg. "You may be called upon as a witness, I'm sure if you remember anything further you will contact us." Jim grabbed his drink and swallowed a mouthful of scalding coffee, head tilted up he missed any expressions the other two might have given, considering his senses were back to normal Jim didn't even wince.

Sandburg and Henry hit it off easily and it wasn't long before they were laughing over sports or maybe it was voodoo-magic, Jim had been a little out of touch with the world recently so he covered his ignorance with nonchalance listening with only half an ear, hinting at intervals for them to hurry up. His coffee had been drained in a few minutes after he had received it, Sandburg lingered.

After a bit of tugging and pulling, Sandburg had gotten to his feet, they had piled back into Henry's car and deposited Sandburg at his flat… or warehouse rather. It had been a massive ground unit, almost completely empty from what Jim had seen, scattered with strange masks and other wooden objects Jim couldn't identify. The place had felt cold and uncomfortable, for some reason nothing like Jim's expectation, Sandburg had offered tea and Jim purposefully declined, Henry hastily following in his wake. The whole unit was concrete, stable, rugs thrown haphazardly on the floor and tapestries hung on the walls, absorbing some of the echoes, not enough in Jim's mind. The surrounding area outside wasn't much better, dank yellowish dying grass accompanied the concrete walkway in a cheap neighbourhood, leaving the whole apartment feeling melancholy, gloomy and unsafe.

Jim had made it to the car.

And then passed out.

"Jim, you finally gonna take that time off then?" Gruff voice followed by gruff face, cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth, unlit. Not exactly the most pleasant thing to wake up to, Jim grumbled incoherently.

Jim hated hospitals, so why did he find himself spending so much of his time there?

Cream walls pretending to be white, disinfectant so strong lingering in the air was dubiously cleaning away the very air he was breathing, landing in miniscule globules on his eyes and slowly disintegrating his cornea. Jim shut his eyes and tried not to breathe it in until he was forced to take in a lung full of disinfectant saturated air.

"Ellison!" His captain barked, he sounded serious, more-so than usual. Maybe Jim was acting weirder than usual. He was losing his mind, he had every right to act one.

"I'm alive." Jim replied sourly, the accompanying headache proved it, unless he was in hell, though he'd prefer to believe oblivion was on the other side... "Get me out of here." Jim demanded, in no position to do so didn't stop him.

"You are a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"

Was that a rhetorical question?

"What are you going to do if I get you out?" gruff voice continued.

…was that a rhetorical question too?

"Finish this case. I have a lead." Jim finally answered, eyes focusing enough to give gruff voice and head a gruff body too. "And I think Sandburg isn't an honest victim as he's pretending to be." And Jim was going to find out exactly what was going on.

With Sandburg. With himself.

Because it was all connected, he was sure of that now.

"You were flat out cold on the pavement for no reason the doctors could find."

"Maybe my coffee was drugged?" Jim shrugged, once he figured this out he was sure this… split personality, this disease, would disappear.

"Damnit Jim!" Simon bellowed. Jim jerked his head towards his captain who was turning purple in increments, he was furious; eyebrows knit tightly together, eyes narrowed and lips strained into a thin white line which was saying something because Simon towered over most people with his six-foot-something height, muscles and Afro-American appearance and as such, well endowed lips. "I am taking you off this case. No excuses. And you are going to find out exactly what's wrong with you, take care of it, before you show your unsightly mug back at work."

"If you give this case to someone else it'll just be shoved to god-knows-where! Simon, let me figure it out, all my instincts tell me that we're dealing with, is something dangerous." Jim's fingers were entwined with the bleached hospital sheets, clenched tightly onto saturated bedspread, crisp with overuse they grated on his skin. Venom poured through his veins, heating his already agitated blood, his chest rose and fell angry and fast, he felt sick and dizzy yet stubborn in his conviction, if his body was going crazy and dragging his mind along for the ride, his instincts were the only bits of him left sane.

"Or you're delusional! You're not exactly a picture of glowing health here." Exasperated, unbelieving and tired bled into Simon's words, incredulous of Jim's persistence and also sad, worried, Jim supposed.

Jim grinned manically and snatched the clipboard of the hook attached to the bed. "You said it yourself sir." shoving the clipboard in his superiors face, his grin transforming into an ugly mask of frustration. "They can't find anything wrong with me. You really wanna take me off the case and suspend me on mystical health reasons?" Jim panted, his migraine had tripled, little bolts of lightning crashing furiously along his brain every few seconds, he was sweating buckets and if he didn't calm down soon, he feared fainting again.

Simon exhaled calmly "Don't fight me on this Jim or you might be looking at more than just a suspension. Maybe… you should see a psychologist. The department-"

"Don't fuck with me Simon! A shrink?" He was at the point of hair tearing but he had been thinning recently he refrained save he go bald. His insanity was his own problem. "Just too much coffee and not enough sleep. Goddamit Simon, you know I can do this, you've trusted my instincts before."

"Months Jim! You've been spelling out, twitching at invisible noises, missing meals. In fact missing whole days of eating anything, don't think I haven't noticed, jumping more so than usual at the slightest touch and you've become so… fucking angry!"

Jim paused in his tirade as eyes flicked to the open doorway, they had been yelling loud enough for anyone with an ear on this floor would have heard them. The throbbing in his head had becomes manageable, nothing worked better than neo-witch-doctor hippy punks.

"Sounds like he's acting like the teenagers and university." A voice piped from somewhere around the door. Simon swiveled around and almost lost his footing, he had been leaning on the end of Jim bed and Sandburg had startled him.

"This is a private conversation. Do. You. Mind?" Simon was gritting his teeth and his fingers were clawing with the expectation of someone's neck, on the other hand Jim felt… calm.

"My bad, sorry, sorry. I'll just…um…" Hands waving in front of him surrender as he quickly backed away from sight. He was still hanging around though Jim could track his heartbeat, not straying too far it seemed.

"I have to do this." Jim said, voice back to its normal level, eyes finally settling back at Simon's angry features, "With or without a badge, I think it's connected to me." Sandburg was well out of hearing range however seemed to still be in effecting-Jim-mode range.

"Ahhh!" Simon exhaled noisily adding a growl for measure, "See a shrink, he gives the ok and then we… we'll see."

No guarantees. Jim didn't need it, he'd see a shrink but he knew what he had to do, if it had to be behind Simon's back. So be it.

"Fine."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Impossibility under oath of Incredulity

Author: Meg a.k.a. Shinigamideathgirl

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Summary: Sometimes it's just too much to ask to be a normal cop.

Author's Notes: Well I think we're kind of officially in the plot. Hooray! Lots of swearing in this chapter, so be-warned. And lots of characters you love to hate reappearing from the series. Oh and unintentionally, Jim's split personally reminds me of the chick from heroes. Unintentional! It was! It was!

The radio is playing two songs:

Three days grace – Now or Never

Adventurers – Broken Land

Read and Review please.

Chapter: Three

_In this time are we loving? Or do we sit here wondering, why this world isn't turning around. It's now or never. _

Jim jerked the radio noise down, almost pulling the knob right off the car stereo startling his already nervous passenger. Focusing pale blue eyes on the road he savoured the silence for a few seconds, the nervous fidgeting beside him increased, it wouldn't be long before inane prattle replaced anxious.

"So uh… your boss? …Thinks you're …a… a… um eccentric?" Euphemisms, why didn't the kid just say whatever the heck was flittering around in his pretty head Jim thought savagely, he was angry for the fact he didn't really feel angry, he should be. He deserved to be angry.

"I think you're a lying neo-witchdoctor hippy punk. I'm not holding it against you. Or shall we dissect your personal life?" Jim retorted no way was he talking about his mental stability with a complete stranger, he didn't need to give any more leverage to this kid.

"Yes you are." Sandburg answered smartly, pointedly not looking Jim's way. Jim took the time to study his profile before swapping him for the road again.

"What?"

"You are holding it against me!" Jim switched his glance back to Sandburg, amusement stored in crinkled eyes and apple cheeks. Blue met blue. Jim swerved dangerously, he decided to keep his eyes on the road.

"Just. Back off." The venom which was supposed to poison his words got lost in transit, at least the growl got through.

"You do bad cop so well." Sandburg said mockingly but without heat, a compliment that sounded more like an insult in good faith. It was really, really hard to hate this guy.

"You chose to come with me." Jim huffed realizing somehow this argument had just turned into something else, how did that happen? A two way participation that Jim was pretty rusty at, in effect a few years worth of accumulated rust.

"Is that what you're going to say when you rip me a new arsehole? That I asked for it?"

"…yes." Jim couldn't help the corners of his mouth lifting, whether it was a joke or not was arguable.

"So there's a human inside there somewhere huh?" Playful punch landed on his shoulder while a laugh escaped the curly haired anthropologist in the passenger seat. Jim didn't flinch, another of his many long forgotten firsts.

Jim eased the radio back on and they drove in comfortable silence.

_This boy had learned to fail. In times like these to cry seems so absurd. His own life's crisis pales in the shadow of this truly dying world…_

"What makes you so sure its still here?" Jim finally asked, his truck was conveniently parked by some construction scrap metal, out of plain sight, although not hard to find if anyone was actually looking. Sandburg wobbled over to Jim, crutches struggling to maintain balance on the wooden planks adorning the wharf, the sea close by splashing onto the rocky outcrop underneath the stilted boards. The moon watched them suspiciously as Jim trudged in a transect looking for possible drug containers… for something.

"Your boss, Simon? Doesn't know that you're out here does he?" Sandburg sighed, "Should you really be out here without backup?" He was following slowly after Jim, performing random acts of aerobics, balancing on his crutches, legs suspended. He was going to fall on his ass of he kept that up and Jim was not so inclined to help.

"I can take care of myself chief. So, what the heck are we meant to be looking for?"

"Uh, I don't know…"

"You better not be bullshitting me kid or I'll haul your ass in for wasting police time and obstructing a police investigation and-" Jim jerked his head up his hearing flaring, breathing, elevated pulse, shifting of metallic, leather, thundered from in front of him. He saw nothing but panels of corrugated steel, flecks of rust peeling the ridges and darkening the dull metal.

"I get it, I get it, chill out." Undaunted voice echoed too loudly in the suddenly noisy and too silent wharf.

Two steps had Jim at arms reach of Blair.

A second too late he realized as the tell-tale click of the hammer being released.

"Fuc-" Pain blazed across his shoulders as blue eyes widened in shock. Jim's world dimmed as Sandburg rushed forward crutches thrown carelessly.

Finding himself in an unknown at an unknown time for a reasonably unknown reason was starting to become a bad running gag. This time wasn't as lucky as the last, pain ripped through his back like someone had decided to cleave his spinal cord out with bare fingers and stuff it all back in, disregarding any sense of order and the concrete above and below was no sunshine and lollipops.

"Fuck." Jim stated finishing his unfinished sentence.

"Unfortunately for you, I agree." Deep baritone, nothing particularly noteworthy.

"Well, apart from the fact that I'm deeply disturbed that someone was possibly watching me sleep, cut to the chase." Jim twisted his head to the side, his neck protesting at the few inches it required. He wriggled his toes to make sure he wasn't suffering spinal injuries, then fingers and felt at least some relief.

The man leaning against the concrete wall looked in his thirties with dirt blond hair parted at the center framing a noncommittal face, all things considered quite a normal looking face. Jim sighed, it would just be so much easier if the bad guys could at least make the effort to look it.

"Sandburg one of yours? Or you a drone too?" The man on the wall actually slipped a smile on his face, bent down a little allowing Jim to stop craning his head so far.

"Ahh, well, well." He sounded like a child with a new toy and that brought some caution to Jim. "I just knew I made the right choice in you Mr. Ellison! Smart and if I'm correct, which… I am. A very powerful weapon." Answering nothing, nudging more questions.

"What did the kid do to me? Who the heck are you?" Anger had risen unbidden and Jim flexed his muscles too see how much give he was getting from his body.

"Well, you do seem to have an impatient streak," a sigh of one so much aggrieved "I was hoping you would just back off, take that time off your supervisor suggested, maybe play with my Blair for a while until you actually got a handle on the thing."

Jim was on his feet before he could consciously even twitch, body straining but moving nonetheless, instinctively. Overtaken.

Balls of his feet propelling him forward, hand snaking outward, fingers tense and a few seconds later eye to eye with the blond, hands clasped around his neck, the nub of a revolver pressing against his stomach. Panting furiously, sweat sliding determinedly down his face, he could strangle him to death but chances were he wouldn't finish with a bullet leaking his already depleted strength, not that he wasn't tempted to try, sheer determination would allow him to kill the bastard, living afterwards may be a problem though. Pain arched through his back resolutely, racing down every nerve and back again, the threat hanging thickly above them.

He let go regretfully, smiling, stepped back, determined not to sway on his feet, ignoring all the pain, not really feeling it anymore…no, not Jim.

The man across from him had paled somewhat though dungeon light was hardly the best to examine with, and a dungeon was exactly what the place reminded James of. Concrete everything, bars and even a leaking roof somewhere.

"Well, you seem to recover nicely. I'm sure in any other circumstance I'd be dead by now. Covert ops training and all Jim.

"James. Jim's taking a break right now." He straightened up, rolled his shoulders and leisurely stretched. He could hear the man's heart beating steadily if a little fast, eyes wide hands steady though, he wasn't going to able to overpower this man so easily but he'd make sure when he got the chance, to paint the walls red, Jim would get a kick out of that, or go mad. "So, black ops? Military? Government, nah, you'd be too psychotic for them to control."

"James, well, you seem reasonable enough." Uncertainty flashed across his face, James grinned, he'd thrown his captor for a loop.

"Oh don't look at me like that, I'm not the one kidnapping police officers. So what's the plan? World domination? Kidnapping children for afternoon supper? No? Assassinate the president Mr. Lee Brackett?"

Eyebrows arched high on his forehead; he raised the gun a little higher, finger pressing a little harder.

"You got guys upstairs talking boy-o." James pointed unnecessarily to the roof.

"Ahh. Looks like you've got those senses under control. I didn't think you could use them at will yet. From what my little spy's been telling me."

"Oh don't worry about that, Blair's been more honest to you than to poor Jimmy. He can't control squat, or he just won't try. Oooh well, well. You have the sunrise patriots working with you too? Now this is getting bigger and bigger. Mr. Ex-military."

Brackett's unoccupied hand fumbled at his hip for a moment before pulling out a radio. "Shut the fuck up. Everyone in this fucking building. Say another word and Kincaid will blow out your damn brains."

"Your blood pressure's rising. I hear that isn't terribly good for your health."

"You're an unpredictable one."

"I'm just lonely."

"I'll give you a present for all your hard work and hopefully future cooperation." He backed out of the cell quickly, gun trained on Jim and James couldn't find any openings. "Don't break it." The cell was locked up and his captor strode away, his footfalls echoing behind him.

James backed up and stayed standing, veins stressing his neck and arms, he endured for a few minutes before his knees buckled and left him on a heap on the unforgiving floor, pain racing and throbbing with his heartbeat. Conscious beating conscious. Jim rubbed his eyes as tremors shook his body. Jim felt behind with his arm trying to locate the reason for it, he came up blank. At least it wasn't a bullet wound or anything like that; just whatever it was they had shot him with was bloody painful and mark-less it seemed. At least the place was dry.

He was in control. He was in control. He was in control. He was in control. He was in control. He was in control. He was in deep shit.

It took only a few minutes after that for two set of echoing footfalls to progressively get louder. He was coming back, with someone…no… with…

"Well, here you go. I am, after all, a man of my word."

"Yeah I got a word for it…" Jim muttered as Sandburg walked in, fully cooperative not coerced in any manner than Jim could perceive. Jim growled and glared for all he was worth he would have smirked in satisfaction when the kid flinched but he was too busy being pissed off. Pissed off at this situation, pissed off at himself whichever one he wasn't too sure. Pissed off that the whole world was going to hell, or just his world. Not that he could really blame the kid, he had known right from the start he was lying, knew this whole case was wrong… or right… or whatever, that there was something really wrong with himself and he walked in stupid, blind, deaf and dumb all at the same time.

And now it had all just gone to who knows where, go straight there and do not pass go. He sighed, Blair had yet to do anything, he was staring at the floor and well, really his other self was… just gone? He had been right there a few minutes ago and now not even a teasing sign at the edge of his conscious. They must have drugged him, poisoned him and experimented on him! Something to explain this, he didn't really remember much of Peru, maybe it all a damn conspiracy.

"What the hell is going on? Truth, and don't think I won't know when you're lying and trust me. Right now, right here, you do not want to piss me off more than I already am."

"I was, am sort of a graduate student at Rainier University, I wasn't lying about that. I'm writing my PhD in Anthropology-"

"I don't want to know about your damn life Sandburg! What the hell is going on here, right now." His fingers clenching at the even ground, nails scraping away at the dusty ground, he didn't notice them break under pressure.

"Dammit Jim! Just listen, its all connected." Blair had begun pacing, hands digging into his wild mane of curly hair, pushing it all back off his face and looking the worse off for it, they now stood out in all directions. Jim surged to his feet, a little unsteadily but exceedingly determined and grabbed a fistful on the youth's shirt and dragged him forward, the pain was starting to recede, at least it wasn't permanent.

"You want to know what else will connect with you in the next second if I don't get some answers?" His fist clenched hard, shook with emotion. Placating hands rested on his shoulders, Blair just moved forward and rested his head on Jim's chest. Jim grunted more out of surprise than anything else, goddamnit, just screw it all to hell. "What did you do to me? Why the hell can't I get angry with you? What the heck is wrong with me?"

"Please, please Jim. It won't make any sense if I start at the end. Just please listen to me."

Jim dropped his hand, uncurled his fist and sent them both down onto the floor.


End file.
